THE KING IN HIS BEAUTY.

OH! to be over yonder,

In that land of wonder,

Where the angel voices mingle, and the angel harpers ring;

To be free from pain and sorrow,

And the anxious dread to-morrow,

To rest in light and sunshine in the presence of the King.

Oh! to be over yonder,

My yearning heart grows fonder

Of looking to the east, to see the day-star bring
Some tidings of the waking,

The cloudless, pure day breaking,

My heart is yearning-yearning for the coming of the King.

Oh! to be over yonder

The longing groweth stronger,

When I see the wild doves cleave the air on rapid wing,

I long for their fleet pinions,

To reach my Lord's dominions,

And rest my weary spirit in the presence of the King.

Oh! to be over yonder,

In that land of wonder,

Where life, and light, and sunshine beam fair on every thing:

Where the day beam is unshaded
As pure as He who made it—

The land of cloudless sunshine, where Jesus is the
King.

Oh! when shall I be dwelling,

Where the angel voices swelling

In triumphant hallelujahs, make the vaulted heavens ring;

Where the pearly gates are gleaming,

And the morning star is beaming;

Oh! when shall I be yonder in the presence of the King?

Oh! when shall I be yonder?

The longing groweth stronger,

To join in all the praises the redeemed ones sing;
Within these heavenly places,

Where the angels veil their faces,

In awe and adoration in the presence of the King.

Oh! soon, soon I'll be yonder,

All lonely as I wander,

Yearning for the welcome summer-longing for the bird's fleet wing,

The midnight may be dreary,

And the heart be worn and weary,

But there's no more shadow yonder in the presence of

the King.

F. C. A.

MY AIN COUNTREE.

I AM far frae my hame, and I'm weary oftenwhiles For the langed -for hame-bringing, an' my Father's welcome smiles;

I'll ne'er be fu' content, until my een do see

The gowden gates o' Heaven, an' my ain Countree.

The earth is fleck'd wi' flow'rs, mony-tinted, fresh, and gay,

The birdies warble blithely, for my Father made them

sae;

But these sights an' these soun's will as naething be to

me,

When I hear the angels singing in my ain Countree.

I've His gude word of promise, that some gladsome day the King

To His ain royal palace His banished name will bring:

Wi' een an' wi' hearts running owre we shall see

"The King in His beauty," an' our ain Countree.

My sins hae been mony, an' my sorrows hae been sair,

But there they'll never vex me, nor be remembered

mair :

His bluid hath made me white, His hand shall dry

mine ee,

When He brings me hame at last to my ain Countree.

Like a bairn to its mither, a wee birdie to its nest,

I wad fain be ganging noo unto my Saviour's breast ; For He gathers in His bosom witless, worthless lambs

like me,

An' carries them Himsel' to His ain Countree.

He's faithfu' that hath promised, He'll surely come again;

He'll keep His tryst wi' me, at what hour I dinna

ken,

But He bids me still to watch, an' ready aye to be
To gang at ony moment to my ain Countree.

So I'm watching aye an' singing o' my hame as I wait,
For the soun'ing of His footfa' this side the gowden

gate.

God gie His grace to ilk ane wha listens noo to me, That we may a' gang in gladness to our ain Countree.

THE FOUR CALLS.

ST. JOHN Xxi. 28.

"The Master is come,—and calleth for thee."
THE Master is come,—and calls for thee,
In tender, solemn pleading;
Sinner, obey the gracious call,
Whilst He is interceding.

Repent, and pause, yet once again ;

Oh! leave earth's empty treasures,

To rest your soul on Jesu's love
And heaven's enduring pleasures.
But yet another call is heard

In loving accents soft and mild;
The Shepherd's warning to his flock,
The father speaking to His child.

"Awake!" the echo seems to say,
"Take heed thy lamp be burning bright:
Why slumberest thou amidst my foes?
Steady and clear should be thy light.

"Go-labour in the Master's cause,
Dream not the golden hours away;
The night will come and all be dark,
Oh! work while it is called to-day."
Another call;-the reaper "Death,"

Too soon will claim us, and we all
Must meet this summons when it comes,
Attend this universal call.

To some the herald whispers peace,

Love, Rest, and Home are reached at last, Eternal joy is now their lot;

The troubled waves of life are past.

But with what horror and despair
Will others meet their dreaded foe;
The Master's call will have for them
E'erlasting shame and endless woe.

His love they slighted, and despised

His many knocks and offered grace;